


Willing Teacher and the Apt Pupil, The

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 3rd Age - The Stewards, Humor, Writing - Good use of humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3853401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of bawdy humour - of how Aragorn learned a new skill.</p><p>Adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Willing Teacher and the Apt Pupil, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Aragorn was lonely. He wanted acceptance from his new companions, but didn’t know how to broach the subject. He’d been with the Dunedain a few months now and seen them relax companionably with each other of an evening when they camped. He watched some of the others longingly; they obviously enjoyed it. Although those that indulged moved away from the main camp-site, it didn’t seem to bother anyone at all – it was simply - accepted.

He’d been startled by the practise at first. It wasn’t done in Imladris, at least he’d never seen it. He tried not to watch, but they were all so open he couldn’t but fail to see the relaxed rangers taking their ease together. He wanted to join them, but youthful pride prevented him admitting he didn’t know how.

Mithrandir joined them for a few days, since they were riding in the same direction. Aragorn grasped his courage and, a little shame-faced, asked him for instruction. Mithrandir was surprised, but ever the willing teacher. That evening he took Aragorn to a quiet glade where they could be alone.

Aragorn looked dubiously at the stem in his hand.

“Put the tip in your mouth and suck gently,” the wizard murmured.

Aragorn steeled himself; then opened his mouth, taking a deep breath.

“No! You’ll choke if you take that much in all at once,” reproved Mithrandir.

Aragorn nodded. He tentatively brought his lips down to the smooth tip. And sucked.

“Harder,” breathed the wizard.

Obediently Aragorn drew it in, hollowing his cheeks to accommodate the strangeness. The flavour was unfamiliar, cloying – he coughed; almost spitting it out, gagging. He took a deep lungful of clean air that he desperately needed. Mithrandir laughed.

“Never mind lad, you’ll acquire a taste for it. The first mouthful is always the worst.”

Aragorn’s eyes watered. He nodded weakly in acknowledgment. Mithrandir contentedly blew a smoke-ring. He waved his pipe in his pupil’s direction.

“You’ll need to take another puff, or it’ll go out!”


End file.
